


Someone in My Corner

by Cactaceae28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Friendship, Gen, Jim Kirk's Very Unconventional Plans, Supportive characters, Trektober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27196630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cactaceae28/pseuds/Cactaceae28
Summary: "I don't think you are the heir of Slytherin", one of the Hufflepuffs said, and as that old muggle movie would put it, that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25
Collections: Trektober 2020





	Someone in My Corner

**Author's Note:**

> For Trektober 2020 Day 24: Harry Potter AU ~~Magic AU~~

Harry watched as the group of Hufflepuffs quickly gathered their things and left, making a protective circle around Justin like they were honestly expecting him to attack him right there. He felt his heart drop down to his feet. Why was everyone so determined to doubt him? He had just wanted to talk, but they had acted like he was about to start spitting fire.

"Don't let it bother you too much, Potter. MacMillan is a drama queen." A voice drawled behind him, and Harry turned to see that, in fact, two students hadn't left with their classmates. They both had the yellow tie of the badger house too, but unlike the others hadn't bothered to move at all after the confrontation; in fact both were looking at him steadily, and not like he might snap at any moment and set a snake on them.

The change was nice. Weird, but nice.

The blonde turned in his chair and offered his hand when Harry hesitantly moved forward, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I'm James Kirk, but you can call me Jim. He's Hikaru Sulu."

"Hey," the other boy waved, though his attention seemed to be wavering from the conversation to the detailed mandrake design in front of him; judging by the tiny handwriting all over the parchment, he could probably give even Neville a run for his galleons.

"I'm Harry Potter. Also, not the Heir of Slytherin," He added, since he very much doubted there was one student who didn't know his name. It seemed to be the right thing to say, since both boys snickered.

"Well, no offense, but we didn't really think a second year could cast magic that Dumbledore couldn't reverse," Jim said.

"Though we know a couple of people who'd give it a try," Hikaru muttered, and Jim threw him a half-irritated glance at the interruption.

“In any case, don’t let those idiots bring you down,” Jim lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, before gesturing at the seat on his left. “You had the Herbology project with Justin, didn’t you? Since it seems he’s going to ask for a change anyway, you can do it with me if you want. Hikaru’s more of a one-man team when it comes to that class anyway.”

Harry looked at the other boy in askance, but Hikaru copied his friend’s unconcerned gesture in acceptance. “Fine by me. Besides, Professor Sprout likes me, I don’t think she’ll have a problem with it.”

Personally, Harry wasn’t so sure it would be that easy, especially since their Head of House had been eyeing him oddly of him since the dueling club and everyone knew how protective she could be when it came to her students; but he decided to keep his doubts to himself.

Still, the temptation of spending a few hours with strangers that weren’t questioning or glaring at him was too much, so he took the offered seat, warily observing at the two boys. Jim gave him a friendly grin and Hikaru started humming absently as he pushed his parchment away and began writing another piece of homework.

That might have been the end of it; but the next day a whole new and puzzling development distracted Harry from the suspicious glares and whispers he couldn’t shake off.

Things had started like usual; get up, pass the Common Room where hopefully the twins would discourage any mocking comments, have breakfast while doing his best to ignore the stares, go to class. It was in their second class of the day, when the door to the Charms’ classroom opened and everyone hurried to their seats, when something new happened.

Somehow, a Ravenclaw slipped in between Harry and his friends just at the right moment, taking the seat on Harry’s left without so much as asking. Hermione pursed her lips and looked at Harry over the boy’s head, and he minutely shrugged his shoulders –Ron was easily able to double back and sit on his other side, and it wasn’t as if any student could curse him with Flitwick present; the diminutive Charms professor was considered one of the fairest teachers at Hogwarts for a reason.

The class started out and the student seemed content to ignore Harry for the time being, dutifully copying down the theory on the blackboard without raising his head or trying to sneak a peek at Harry’s scar. It was when Flitwick started on the practical demonstration and asked them to practice the charm –supposed to transport inanimate objects a few feet forward– than the student deigned to address him, not even bothering to reach for his wand.

“My Dad’s a surgeon in Bristol.” The brown-eyed Ravenclaw suddenly said, and Harry nearly flinched; the boy’s voice had been conspicuously loud –not enough to earn a reprimand from Flitwick, but enough to ensure that the students around them heard. The boy ignored the student in the row ahead and her frantic shushing motions, and kept talking. “He nearly had a conniption when my letter came; no reason to believe in magic before, you see.”

“Um… okay?” Harry said, exchanging a look with his friends and feeling extremely bewildered.

“Leo McCoy,” the boy continued as if Harry had given a coherent response, “and the stick in the mud behind you is Spock Grayson. Don’t mind the eyebrows.”

Harry turned abruptly with a startled jump, to find himself pinned by a steely black gaze. He had never spoken to the second student, but he did remember seeing him in the halls before; it was hard not to notice him since he looked like Harry had imagined elves to be, before he had met Dobby. Grayson carefully laid his wand on the desk and did some complicated gesture with his right hand.

“Forgive me for not shaking your hand, Mr. Potter. It is not the custom of my _non-human_ ancestors,” he said, putting a strange emphasis on the last words, just like his classmate had done before. After a beat of silence, in which Harry debated how to answer to such a strange introduction, the boy nodded lightly in his direction, lifted an eyebrow at Hermione’s open curiosity and turned back to his work.

The first Ravenclaw sighed, turning to face the front and poked half-heartedly at his project. “Would it kill you to put some actual emotion when you’re introducing yourself?”

“‘Emotion’, as you put it Leonard, is a wholly subjective factor that has no bearing between virtual strangers as, no offense to Mr. Potter, two people would be during a first meeting. It is therefore…”

“…Illogical?” McCoy grumbled crabbily.

“Unnecessary.”

The last exchange was, apparently, all the two students had to say on the matter, as the remainder of the class passed in silence, broken only when both Hermione and Grayson managed the spell at the same time to Flitwick’s delight, eliciting more grumbles from McCoy – who nonetheless cast it flawlessly a few minutes later. Harry wondered whether he should say something more once the class ended, but in his moment of indecision the two ravens slipped out without any more fuss.

“That was weird,” Ron said, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder and frowning thoughtfully in their direction.

“Well, it’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Hermione countered, “At least it’s clear they aren’t blaming Harry.”

Ron shrugged uneasily. “I guess.”

The next encounter didn’t take place until just before lunch.

“Still here, Scarhead?”

Harry groaned. He was not in the mood for this now, “Shove off, Malfoy.”

“What are you going to do, Potty? They’ll pin something on you and expel you sooner or later. You know my father—”

“My Мать alvays said that your father looked shifty.” Harry jumped in surprise. He hadn’t seen the tiny boy, even shorter than Colin was, who had approached them while Malfoy had started his monologuing.

The first year continued airily, “She also said that he’d be hotter if he vas a brunet, but I didn’t have to know that, so I didn’t ask more.”

Malfoy spluttered at the strange remark, unable to come up with a response, and was forced to leave in a huff to keep his dignity. After that, the first year turned to the trio with a friendly nod. “I’m Pavel Chekov, by the vay. I vas bound for Durmstrang, actually, but my Мать doesn’t approve of their curriculum. It vas nice to meet you.”

Harry exchanged a look with his friends as the Slytherin first-year almost strutted back to his table, blithely ignoring the glares Malfoy and some of the upper-classmen were throwing his way with a casual little wave.

After a mind-numbingly boring History of Magic period, Harry had just started to put the whole thing out of his mind, when he was suddenly run over by someone. He sighed, resigned to having to pick everything up on his own, when someone apologized and a hand appeared in his field of vision.

“Ah, mighty sorry there lad,” the Gryffindor upper-year said, bending down to help him gather the things that had rolled out of his backpack.

“Wait, don’t you room with the twins? Montgomery, right?” Ron asked suddenly.

“Aye, I do. They are menaces alright, how did you stay sane growing up with them?” He asked jokingly.

“I wonder sometimes,” Ron agreed with an exasperated tone.

“Anyway, call me Scotty, Montgomery was my grandpa. He was a sergeant in World War Two, you know? I still have his Victoria Cross back at home somewhere.”

With that parting shot he gave Harry’s quills back, nodded and turned away.

“What’s going on today?” Harry asked, but his friends could only shrug, as confused as he was.

That evening the three friends were a corner in the Common Room, idly playing chess (or being destroyed at chess) and doing homework (or lecturing about homework) when someone cleared their throat to get their attention. When Harry looked up from his argumentative bishop, he found it was Hermione’s roommate, Nyota Uhura.

“Hello, Nyota,” Hermione said, looking up from her Potions essay with a quizzical grin, “do you need anything?”

“Maybe later, I wouldn’t mind proofreading that essay in exchange for the one for McGonagall’s next class, if you want,” she said, before perching on the arm of Ron’s chair. “I just needed to tell Harry that I grew up in Somerset, and my older sister is already teaching me how to drive in the summers— she’s a squib, you know, like Mom.”

Nyota must have caught Harry’s grimace of exasperation, because she laughed at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m the last one. I can mention more of my ancestry if you want, but seeing as it’s just us four here, I think we can skip it. Just don’t tell Jim that I spilled the beans. Apparently, getting his friends to share their non-pureblood-fanatic roots with you was his show of support in a cunningly Slytherin way… but there’s a Hufflepuff for you, I guess.”

“Wait… Jim? Jim Kirk?” Harry squeaked, and hastily covered the sound with a cough.

“Yes, well,” Nyota’s smile took a rueful tint, “He didn’t appreciate MacMillan’s display the other day, or bullying in any form, really; and it’s hard to deny him when he gets a crazy idea in his head. It’s probably the smile.”

Her grin grew wider when she saw the trio trading looks and she got up with a skip, pausing to pat Harry on the shoulder. “Just so you know, I suspect that you three have just been adopted. Try not to fight it, it’s just not worth the headache.”

Harry blinked, unable to respond in time before she left, with her ponytail swishing behind her. He didn’t want to believe it, but if what she said was true… well he would always be grateful for his two friends, that had been the first to be there, but if Jim and the others were serious about being friends it would be… nice.

Time would tell, he thought with a grin, but it seemed like things were finally looking up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
